A final word

Departure day - Wearing ceremonial marmars


It has been over two months since I returned to the U.S and I thought I should post a final blog entry. As many of you who know me on a personal level know, concerns about my in-laws health led Wenonoa and I to return to the U.S earlier than expected.

Our last days on the island were filled with both excitement at beginning a new chapter of our lives and sadness over leaving so many close friends. Micronesia is located in the middle of the Pacific somewhat near the edge of the world; it is not a place one might find oneself passing through on the way to somewhere else. Thus, as we looked at the island from the window of the departing plane, we knew it might be our last glimpse of Micronesia.

My first day back I gained an appreciation for what Dorothy must have felt upon waking up post-tornado in her bed in Kansas. I woke up in a Seattle airport hotel room feeling as though the whole Micronesian experience must have been a dream. The Seattle airport had a bookstore (which Micronesia doesn’t) and more dining choices than the whole island of Pohnpei had. Flipping through the channels on the hotel TV and salivating over all the menu choices on the area delivery dining guide it seemed unreal that the last year and half of my life was spent on a quiet little island just over 100 sq. miles in size that lacked so many of the amenities we take for granted.

The next few days back continued to fill us with awe and appreciation. On our first trip to a supermarket we must have appeared to the other shoppers to be recent refugees. We just stared and pointed in disbelief. Never before had tomatoes appeared so big, so red, and so bountiful. The same held true for almost every other fruit and vegetable in the produce section.

Conversely, our waltz down the seafood section was shocking and disappointing. Having gotten use to paying $2 a pound for fresh tuna the amounts being charged for tuna, salmon, and all other fish seemed like pure robbery. Our sashimi days are gone!

As exciting as the supermarket was, my first driving experience was equally as terrifying. Having gotten use to speeds that seldom exceed 30 mph, my fingers tightly squeezed the steering wheel as I accelerated up to 60 mph during my first entry onto the freeway. I can’t recall 60 mph ever feeling so fast and I was certain that death was near. With so many cars flying by and changing lanes I was almost certain that one un-attentive driver either dialing his/her cell phone, sending a text, changing a CD or lighting a smoke would drift into the next lane and an ensuing 50 car pile would result. To my delight and disbelief, we made it off the freeway with no unfortunate mishaps and for the next few days my speed and comfort increases. I am no longer fazed by the freeways and nor expect to see chickens crossing the road.

Of the questions I am asked, two are repeated frequently, “Are you glad you went; are you glad your back?” To the first, the answer is an unequivocal YES for many reasons. To live somewhere else among a culture that doesn’t view the world we do is a wonderful learning experience. To live a different lifestyle provides an opportunity to re-examine our approach to life. For those and many other reasons, especially the friendships I made, I am most definitely glad we went.

To answer the question as to whether I’m glad to be back causes me to stop and pause. I can say this – Life for me was fun in Micronesia – Tuesday night was ultimate Frisbee, Wednesday poker, Saturday scubadiving, and Saturday night bridge night. We worked until 5pm and then responsibilities ended and playtime began. It was fun but it wasn’t always comfortable.

85 degree weather complimented by 85% humidity is not always pleasant, especially if the apt. only has just one window air conditioner. To put it one way, in America housecleaning involves dusting, in Micronesia it involved wiping off the mold that grew basically everywhere. No joke, one night we opened up the box of a board game that had lay unused for a few months and found that mold had started to grow on the playing board.

I can’t really answer the question. I’m back. Certainly I enjoy the creature comforts, the culinary options, the cultural opportunities that are here and I miss what I miss from there. The ending of each chapter leads to the beginning of a new chapter. Without knowing where this chapter will end or how the next will begin, I can’t even begin to ponder whether I’m glad to be back. When asked whether I’m glad to be back I just shrug. After all, to borrow Popey’s famous line, “I y’am what I y’am...”

Machettes

When I get back to the states, I want to walk down my street shirtless and shoeless, carrying a machette. I’d imagine it would turn a few heads and cause people to make sure their doors are locked and car windows rolled up. Here, the sight is nothing to blink at. It is something I see almost daily on my drive to work.
Machettes are an all-purpose general utility here, sort of the Micronesian version of a pocket knife. Only they don’t fit in a pocket so people, old and young, walk around carrying them to open coconuts, cut down some bananas, and for various other purposes.

The commonness of machettes makes for a few amusing anecdotes worth sharing….
An Australian woman told Wenonoa that when her son was turning seven she asked him what he would like for his birthday. The answer of course – a machette. Some of his classmates had them so he wanted one too. As they were to be relocating soon after his birthday she had to explain to him that it wouldn’t be an appropriate gift for him.

The Aussies live on their own compound, complete with a gardener. One day some other Aussie children, ages 4 and 6, were playing in the yard and for some reason or another required the use of a machette. They asked the gardener if they could use his and being an accomodating individual, he kindly let them borrow it. The mother happened to look out her window and saw her kids using it. She had to explain to him that menwei children aren’t smart about things like using machettes and that the boys would hurt themselves.

It is true. The local kids are adept at using machettes as American kids are at using Gameboys. I often have to ask my 12-year old neigbor friend to open my coconuts for me. I have to hack and hack at it, but he can get one open in seconds.

The most recent 5K fun run was sponsored by Island Food Community. Better known as Go Local, Island Food is a local non-profit that promotes the use of indigenous foods. Rather than giving away prizes of rice and ramen, instead the prizes were intended to promote use of local resources for the production of food. When the Girls 12 and Under category winner was announced she walked to the podium and received a garden shovel. The 12 and Under winning boy was presented with a machette.

A female American friend immediately got upset about the gender difference in prizes; girls get shovels and boys get machettes. I had to laugh because, having all been here a while, none of us gave a second thought to the idea of a machette as being a suitable prize for a 12 and under category, regardless of gender.

A random thought about the positives of life on the island

Two cars were parked at the side of the intersection on my way to work the other day. Passing by, it looked as though there had been a fender bender. It dawned on me that this was the first accident scene I had driven by in the year and half I’ve been here. By contrast, an ‘intersection accident’ was something I passed weekly, if not daily, in Phoenix. In Oregon, accidents were less common but certainly not rare.

As an ex-pat, I’ve noticed that the things we miss from home come up in conversation much more than the things we are happy to escape from. Similarly, my blog entries may have discussed the negatives more than the positives but there are plenty of positives about living here.

It has been nice living a life that doesn’t include the omnipresent stress, fear and annoyances that are part of everyday life in the U.S. Driving here is stress free and the rate of speed so slow that there is little fear of getting seriously hurt in a car accident. The constant sound of car alarms and cell phones which in the states had turned me into a Grinch-like creature grimasing the words “noise, noise, noise” is gone. The bombardment of advertising and telemarketing simply doesn’t exist. In fact, advertising isn’t really needed at all. When a ship arrives and grocery store is restocked, word gets around.

There is minimal crime on the island and less acts of random violence. Without the media coverage that exists in the U.S. the crime that does occur here doesn’t result in a culture of fear. In fact, fear is replaced by friendliness. As one longtime ex-pat remarked to me, living here he has gotten use to chatting with strangers. When he goes to the states and out of habit starts to strike up a conversation with a random stranger, he is treated with suspicion and mistrust. Parents don’t worry that their children will be abducted and kids in first or second grade can safely walk to school or the corner store alone.

Weno - A study of contrasts

Written on a recent trip to Weno, the main island of Chuuk State.

The beauty of Weno lies not on the land but on top of and beneath the lagoon that spreads out below and before me. In front of me clouds rise from the horizon in multi-hued brilliance like a canyon wall closing off the outside world. They lay, one on top of another, stacked from the sea to the sky in all shades of blue and grey during the twilight hour. Westward, the sun lingers somewhere behind the wall of clouds. A few strong rays penetrate a layer of clouds producing swirls of a pinkish salmon color that peak through blend with the blue-gray curtain of clouds.

I didn’t bring my camera on this trip and now wish I had. For the last three nights I have sat as the minutes passed by watching the horizon as the sky changed from blue to black. On past trips to Weno I had brought my camera but the lense only focused on the road. Rainfilled potholes as deep as ditches are as prevelant as holes on a piece of Swiss cheese. Dirty water washes into and out of the potholes until the road is covered in a layer of slimy mud. The potoholes are so common and so deep that no one travels more than 15 miles per hour. Every few feet drivers brake so the car can gently roll into the ditchlike potholes. When possible, they turn into parking lots or the oncoming lane to avoide the holes. The joke on Weno is that the way you can tell if a person is driving drunk is if he is driving in a straight line.

When the road is behind me, beauty is in front. Between my 3rd floor hotel balcony and the clouds, the calm lagoon water sits. Digesting and reflecting the color, a purple hue spreads across the surface. The water, disturbed only when a small boats skims the water heading from Weno back to a lagoon island, produces the occasional ripple but otherwise is as still as the full moon at midnight.

Beneath the surface another type of beauty exists. Spread througout the lagoon are 40 Japanese ships sunk in battle during World War II. Nature and time have removed the ugliness of war and few remnants of battle remain. Brightly covered corral decorate the ship’s sides hiding the dull gray steel. Schools of fish now occupy the spaces where sailors once stood watch. They are peaceful, silent, and present everwhere. Their numbers suggest that the lagoon is healthy, vibrant, teeming with life.

Behind me, the opposite is true. There is nothing healthy looking on the island. Litter lines the streams feeding the lagoon. Abandoned cars rust and tin shacks rust on the side of the road and everything seems in need of a fresh coat of paint.

Weno – A study of contrasts.

Beware sleeping drunks

Not to long ago National Geographic had a one page article on unique warning and other signs from around the world. My favorite, a warning of deep crocodile-infested waters, pictured a wheelchair speeding down a ramp. Another, aimed at teaching rural residents the correct way of using a toilet, had a picture of a person squatting on top of a toilet seat with the universal diagonal red line across the sign.

If I were asked to design a unique roadside warning sign for Pohnpei, it would show a man laying in the road asleep (as indicated by those little z’s used in cartoons to depict a sleeping person) with a half empty botttle of booze at his side. As with most developing countries where the traditional lifestyle is evaporating and many men are unemployed, alcohol is a problem.

I can understand the alcoholism. It’s the falling asleep drunk in the middle of the road that confuses me. I can’t imagine being so drunk that I wouldn’t first move to the side of the road before laying down for my night’s sleep. But it’s true…
Driving at night, especially a weekend night, one must be on the lookout for people asleep in the road. One friend reported that on two occasions, as he turned from the main road onto his street he has had to stop and wake someone up. On a cloudy night a few weeks ago, while driving home on a rural road a different friend didn’t notice a sleeping drunk until it was too late.

If the story is true what happened afterward is even more amazing then a drunk guy lying down in the street. According to the driver, after running the man over, he stopp the car and knocked on a neighbor’s house. The neighbors were aware that the guy was asleep in the road but hadn’t bothered to move him. The police were summoned and my friend then had to convince them that they should take the run-over drunk to the hospital to be checked out. Fortunately, his injuries were not life threatening and the man survived.

Prom

We recently had the second annual menwei (ex-pat) prom.

To understand prom, one must first understand Super Savers. Super Savers is a second hand clothing store on the island. Due to its odd assortment of clothing, it is assumed it somehow buys full containers of clothes that haven’t been sorted for climate appropriateness. It is very handy for people traveling to cold weather climates, like Australia in July, because no other store sells fleece jackets, parkas, or anything else one would wear in the snow.

Perusing the inventory is like taking a walk down memory lane. The racks are filled with items representative of the last three decades. Last year one of the ex-pat teachers at the college noted that they had a wide variety of 1980s era gowns. Realizing it would be a waste to let those gowns and the bygone eras they represented sit on the shelf, prom was born. It was a small affair last year, attended by about 15 or so people, at a private residence.

Once started, the concept took hold. This year the theme, “Almost Paradise,” was selected and word spread. About 40 or so attended. The party was moved from a private residence to one of the island bars. Following in last year’s example, some looked for the most comical outfits they could find. Others chose to use the occasion to put on lipstick and nice clothes.

Since last year I was voted prom king for my (very creative if I say so myself) printer paper bow tie and cummerbund, this year I went sans costume and gave someone else a chance. Boris found a purple suit jacket and almost matching purple pants at Super Saver and was deservedly crowned king.

The prom was a fitting end to the school year as many of our ex-pat friends who teach at the community college or as part of the WorldTeach volunteer program will be, in a sense, graduating as they leave the island and go on to new adventures elsewhere.

Microneseans in the US Army

My friend Tony is a volunteer teacher with the organization WorldTeach. He wrote the following which appeared in the online edition of the Christian Science Monitor. The article provides some interesting insights into communicaiton and information sharing on the island. I was amazed by the comments of Pohnpein who volunteers to serve as a recruiter for the US Army.

http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Asia-Pacific/2010/0505/Uncle-Sam-wants-Micronesians-for-US-military

Christian Science Monitor
Uncle Sam wants Micronesians for US military
US military recruiting from the Federated States of Micronesia, per capita, leads all American states. Many see an economic path out of the isolated Pacific nation, but some don't know they might fight in Iraq or Afghanistan.

By Tony Azios, Correspondent / May 5, 2010
Pohnpei, Federated States of Micronesia

The portraits of stern-faced young men on armed forces recruiting posters, hanging from cafeteria walls, seem to gaze down at the mingling teenagers. Below, about 130 high school seniors have gathered to sit for a US military aptitude test required by the school's administration. Several dozen plan to enlist; many more are still on the fence.

The students are from the Western Pacific island of Pohnpei. And the scene is repeated nationwide several times each year – putting the four states that make up the Federated States of Micronesia (FSM) ahead of every US state in Army recruits per capita in recent years.

Lloyd Daniel, a talkative senior with a taste for pizza and American slang, will ship out for Army training on June 29. He joined for the same reasons most kids here do: to see the world, get a steady paycheck, and pay for college. Also, Lloyd feels a sense of debt to America: "The US has been here helping out our island in many ways, so I feel that we, as Micronesians, must return the favor."

Liberated from Japanese occupation by US troops during World War II, the FSM were administered by the United States as part of the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands from 1947 until independence in 1986, when the two countries entered into a compact of free association. The independent nations of Palau and the Marshall Islands, which also were administered by the US following World War II, negotiated separate compacts and achieved independence at different times but are also visited by US military recruiters. The compact obligates the US to defend these sovereign countries from attack, and grants their citizens permission to live and work in the US without a visa and serve in its armed forces. Non US-citizens can serve but cannot become commissioned or warrant officers.

This has been a major boon to Micronesia, located 2,500 miles southwest of Hawaii. Its lackluster economy averages $2,200 gross domestic product per capita. With a median age of 18.9, the FSM has one of the world's youngest populations; with a 22 percent unemployment rate, however, jobs are scarce. Remittances from enlisted citizens help many families stay afloat, and the promise of education benefits, signing bonuses, and a starting salary of just under $17,000 for a private first class all serve as effective lures.

Some critics, however, see military recruiters as preying upon an impoverished population. "Economically disadvantaged families are filling the ranks of the US armed forces," says John Haglelgam, former president of the FSM. Mr. Haglelgam, who has opposed Micronesians serving in the US military, says most Micronesians share his view, but see the military as their best hope for upward mobility.
An opportunity to advance

"It's very unfortunate that families here are pinning their economic dreams and hopes on the blood of their children," says Haglelgam. "The chance for [extra income] has emboldened families to not object."
It is thought that between 1,000 and 1,500 of the FSM's approximately 107,000 citizens are currently enlisted, with many more veterans now in the US or on one of the nation's 607 widely scattered islands.

But while some Micronesians see the US military as their ticket out, many here are poorly informed of the risks. The FSM has suffered more casualties in Iraq and Afghanistan per capita than any US state, and has lost soldiers at a rate five times the US average. Some recruits sign on unaware the US is fighting two wars.
Hideaki Charley, a high school senior planning to ship out for Army training this summer, lives in an outer municipality where newspapers and Internet access are hard to come by. He only found out that America was at war in one country, not to mention two, about a year ago – weeks after he had enlisted.

'They didn't tell me about the wars'

"The recruiters didn't tell me about the wars," says Hideaki. "They told me about the good things" such as enlistment bonuses and the chance to travel. "But I didn't ask [about war]," he adds.

US forces may also find the remote islands such fertile ground for recruitment because residents have been largely spared from the deluge of media coverage of the years-old wars. A recent study by the Heritage Foundation of US enlistment rates cites "Native Hawaiian/Other Pacific Islander" as the most overrepresented group as of 2005, with a ratio of 7.49, or an overrepresentation of 649 percent.
With three tours of duty in Vietnam and a career with Special Forces, 1st Sgt. Frank Semens (ret.) is one Pohnpeian who does know the risks. Still, in his role as US Army recruiter here, Semens would rather not discuss with potential recruits the dangers they may face.

"I've never tried to explain the risks to [potential recruits] because I don't want to scare them," says Semens. "I tell them about the opportunities."

Semens says that most Pohnpeian parents assume their child will automatically become a sohnpei, or warrior. "Not so," he tells them. Semens stresses to recruits and their families that there are many noncombat positions available that provide training in applicable skills and trades. It's these opportunities, as well as a long military tradition that keeps Micronesians enlisting at such high rates, says Peter Prahar, US ambassador to the FSM. "If we didn't give a [recruitment] test, there would be an uproar," says Ambassador Prahar. "People want to take this test."

Haglelgam also recognizes the popularity of service. "This is a volunteer military, and people should have the right to make that choice," he says. "My hope is that they will have all the information in front of them when they make their decision."

Even when they know the risks, many still choose to serve. "I would still join. It doesn't matter," says Hideaki. For now, what he most wants to discuss is his first trip off-island this summer to Guam, for a medical checkup with the Army.